


Murder is Not an Option

by Cougars_catnip



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Hate Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:17:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cougars_catnip/pseuds/Cougars_catnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair vents his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder is Not an Option

"Aw, man!" Detective Blair Sandburg groused. "How come I've always gotta be the homeless guy?"

Captain Simon Banks just smiled at the grumpy detective. "Because it's your turn, Sandburg. You don't have a problem with your assignment do you?"

"No, Captain, but …"

"Tell it to the hand, Sandburg," the captain laughed, waving his hand at Blair.

Blair turned with a pleading look to the other detectives in the room.

Henri Brown laughed and held up his hands to ward off the look of despair on his teammate's face. "No way, Hairboy. Don't you give me those puppy dog eyes."

Blair pouted. "But it was my turn last time. Why can't it be somebody else's turn? Like Rafe."

All five men turned to look at the impeccably dressed Detective Rafe. They turned back with identical incredulous expressions. "Rafe? Mr. GQ as a homeless person? You can't be serious," Captain Joel Taggert said.

Detective Jim Ellison ruffled his partner's hair. "Sorry, Rookie, but you're just going to have to suck it up. We've all had this duty. Besides, with that hair and the fastest growing beard in the department, you're a natural."

"But Jim, it's cold and wet," Blair wailed.

"Y'know Chief, sometimes I wonder why you got the wolf and I got the panther," Jim said, shaking his head. His partner's aversion to the cold was well known to all of them and he was as fussy as a cat about being wet. Put the two together and you had one miserable Blair Sandburg.

Simon grinned. "If you two are finished? Ok, here's what we have. A gang has been targeting small businesses in this area, beating up the store owners for protection money. We are going to take them down gentlemen. Any questions?"

***************  
"Cold. Cold and wet. Oh and did I mention wet and cold? How do you think I'm doing?" Blair grumbled into his mike. He shivered , bending over the trash fire in a vain attempt to keep warm. The water dripping from his hair hissed and spat as it fell into the fire. He shivered again as an icy rivulet crept under his collar and down his spine. Blair looked around once more, carefully watching the pawn shop for any sign of suspicious activity. "Still clear." He moved back to the dubious shelter of a doorway that had a clear view of the shop.

Jim winced at the irritated tone in his partner's voice. "Hang in there Chief, our relief should be showing up soon."

With a dull 'ka-whump', the windows of the pawnshop warped ever so slightly inward before exploding outward in a devastating shower of glass, wood shards, and fire.

The concussion from the blast knocked Blair backward into the door. He shook his head and staggered out of the doorway into the alley, staring in stunned amazement at the demolished building. A flash of movement caught his attention and he turned to face the street as a car fishtailed into the alleyway, heading straight for him. Blair caught a glimpse of the masked driver before he threw himself backward out of the path of the car. He tucked his chin to his chest, rolling from right hip to left shoulder, slapping his hand down as he rolled to break his fall. A wild fleeting thought ran through his mind urging him to go thank his self defense instructor at the academy for insisting that they practice the back roll until it was instinct. He continued the motion, allowing his momentum to pull him into a crouch. The crack of a shot from the fleeing car dimly echoed off the walls, dueling with the ringing in his ears for his attention. Blair ducked reflexively and reached under his jacket, drawing his service revolver from his shoulder holster. He aimed carefully and squeezed off two shots. He was rewarded with the sight of shredded rubber as the tire exploded. The car lurched to the right and Blair could see the driver fighting to maintain control. The car hit a large pothole and slammed into a dumpster with a resounding crash and the agonizing shriek of crumpling metal.

Jim swore and tumbled out of the truck. He raced toward the alley, gun in hand , his heart in his throat. If he hadn't heard the two gunshots from Blair's service revolver and the familiar heartbeat he would have descended on the car like an avenging angel, as it was he was just one pissed off Sentinel. A sensory sweep picked up a steady stream of curses from the driver and the slowed heartbeat and respiration of the unconscious passenger.

Before Jim could cross the street, the driver tore open the door and scrambled out of the car, leaving his buddy behind as he dashed up the street. Jim had taken only two steps in the fleeing perp's direction, when a passing blur zoomed out of the alley and pursued the masked man. Smiling slightly, Jim crossed the street to check the injured man, knowing it wouldn't be long before Blair ran the other man down.

********************  
The detectives in the bullpen and walking down the hall winced at a resounding crash from the interrogation room. A moment later the door opened and a large hand pushed Blair into the hall. Blair stormed down the hall followed by his partner. The look of sheer fury on the younger man's face had everyone scrambling to get out of his way.  
Henri Brown and his partner stopped, staring at Jim and Blair. "Jim, what's up?" Henri asked.

Jim barked over his shoulder, "I'll tell you later. Just watch the perps will you? We'll be back."

Rafe and Brown exchanged confused looks. "Where are you going?"

"The gym!" came the terse reply. Jim raced after his partner, who had not waited for the elevator, but instead took the stairs three at a time.

*********************  
The door slammed open as the infuriated detective entered the gym. Expecting to see Ellison after such a display of force, the detectives and uniforms working out in the gym stared in shock as Sandburg stalked over to the heavy punching bag and laid a blow on it that sent it crashing into the back wall with enough force to send the practice weapons tumbling off their stands.

Ellison entered the gym, eyes glittering with barely suppressed fury. Without comment he grabbed the bag and braced it as his partner laid in blow after blow.

The officers watching were stunned as several of the blows had Ellison stumbling back several feet before he returned to his position for the next punch. But what truly had the officers standing in frightened awe was the silence. Neither detective said a word as the normally outgoing Sandburg laid into the leather bag with an intensity that chilled the crowd of off duty officers. No one had ever seen the detective so angry and each fervently prayed that they were never the object of his rage. Long minutes passed before the strikes even began to slow, but slow they did until finally the two men stood silently, clinging to the bag for support to keep from sliding to the floor, foreheads resting against the bag.

Blair's pained laced voice whispered Sentinel-soft, "I could kill them for this."

For an instant Jim agreed with his grieving friend but he shook his head slowly, the bag rocking slowly with the motion. "Murder's not an option, Chief."

"Why not?" came the deadened reply. "Like The Man said. 'An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.' It's the least those scum deserve."

Jim reached around the bag, his hand lightly covering Blair's. "You really believe that?"

A sigh that seemed to come from the depths of Blair's soul escaped him. "No, but they should pay."

"They will, Blair." The Sentinel was confident. "They will." Jim eased around the bag, careful not to shift the delicate balance and send his friend tumbling to the floor. He wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulder and escorted him towards the locker room. "Come on, Chief. Let me bandage your hands. Then we need to get back upstairs and wrap this up."

As they left the room the until then silent crowd let out a collective sigh of relief. Never again would they look at the newest detective with anything other than respect and awe. The bag swung gently then crashed to the floor.

*******************  
Simon stormed into the gym, noticing the stunned detectives and officers, some of whom were staring at the locker room door, others who were staring at the heavy bag that lay on its side, part of its seams ripped, stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The Captain chomped on his unlit cigar and entered the locker room, fully prepared to blast Ellison for leaving in the middle of an interrogation, intimidating fellow officers, and destroying precinct property. Rounding a row of lockers, Simon pulled up short. Sandburg sat on the bench, staring blankly at the swollen battered hands laying in Ellison's light grasp. The older man gently applied ointment to the damaged knuckles and wrapped them in clean gauze. Blair's body was still stiff with tension but an aura of sadness cloaked the younger man. Neither one spoke, but their eyes and motions said volumes. Simon moved closer, dampening his anger and asked softly, "What happened?" The pained sadness and lingering rage in Blair's dark blue eyes nearly took his breath away.

"They laughed, Simon."

He had to strain to hear his detective.

"They knew the family was there. They killed them. They fucking bragged about it, and laughed." Blair drew in a shuddering breath.

Jim gently squeezed his wrists in silent support.

"And you want to know why, Simon? Because they were Jewish."

Simon closed his eyes at the utter desolation in Blair's voice.

Blair drew himself upright and dropped his gaze to the floor. "I just lost it. I'm sorry, sir."

Simon laid a hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "Sandburg. Blair."

At his first name the detective met his captain's eyes.

"We have their confession. Forensics found blasting caps and explosives in the trunk of their car with their fingerprints all over them. I know that doesn't help the family they killed but they will never hurt anyone again. You nailed them, Detective."

A decisive nod was all he got in return, but he swore he heard the echoing howl of a wolf in the distance.

~finis~

"We who are clay blended by the Master Potter, come from the  
kiln of Creation in many hues. How can people say one skin is  
colored, when each has its own coloration? What should it  
matter that one bowl is dark and the other pale, if each is of  
good design and serves its purpose well."  
Polingaysi Qoyawayma, Hopi

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not have been finished without the help of two very special people. So I therefore dedicate this story to them. To Jennifer, my writing partner and foster daughter. Without her I wouldn't BE a writer. Many of the words in this story are hers and she is the co-author. When words failed me she jumped in and wrote as I dictated what was happening.  
> And to Mary who, when I said I don't know what happens next, said, "Hey, have the place blow up!" VBEG So it did and from then on I knew just what was happening. Without these two ladies, consummate writers in their own right, this story would never have been finished. Thank you Decker M and Maven, I'm so glad and thankful that you are my friends.  
> I also want to thank my wonderful beta readers, Ashlee, Cokie, Mary, TAE and Sierra, without them this story would be full of mistakes. Thank you ladies for your help, encouragement and inspiration. I couldn't do this without ya'll.  
> And last but not least… to Richard Burgi and Garett Maggart, whose portrayal of Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg has warmed our hearts and sparked our imagination. Thank you and man, do I miss seeing you two in a new episode every week.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of UPN, Paramount and Pet Fly Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.
> 
> Any errors in legal/police procedures that may occur in this story are solely my own. As Dr. McCoy would say, "I'm a fanfic writer, Jim, not a legal expert!"
> 
> ~ Aislinn  
> April 12, 2000


End file.
